Our second and final day in N’awlins was divine. Break­fast at the Camellia Grill in South Car­rollton with far too much butter in the omelette (I could feel the weight piling on) fol­lowed by a driving tour of the Garden Dis­trict, a trolley ride into the French Quarter and a meander around Jackson Square and Dec­atur Street. We had café au lait and juice at the Café du Monde, jam­balaya and red beans and rice for lunch, walked more around the Quarter looking at the old lace­work, stumbled upon an absinthe bar down Pirate’s Alley, talked to old men painting walls, and then as the sun set, headed to Frenchmen Street to find Snug Harbor, where we knew the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra Jam was playing.

I ordered Chartreuse while Doug tried out a new rum and we enjoyed blackened cat­fish for dinner and then one of the best, sharpest, wildest live jazz per­form­ances I’ve seen, all of us calling out, “oh yeah!” during solos and the cla­rinet sang sweet, deep sugar while the cornet wailed and the sax­o­phone laughed at them both. The big guy playing the double bass burbled to him­self as he plucked those strings, bee doop and bing, baby. And we clapped along, joy in our hearts and all the troubles in the world for­gotten. When they played slow, it was a swelling wave of love.

We went down the road to DBA to see blues legend Walter “Wolfman” Wash­ington after that, but it was too loud and not right, so we poured ourselves into a cab and home to our couch­surfing couch near Napo­leon and St Charles, slept like babies and woke up early-ish to drive to Austin for Thanks­giving.